


stuck

by knlalla



Series: quick fics [12]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kinda?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: Phil supposes they're both prone to doing senseless things sometimes.





	stuck

There's a difference between who they are and who they used to be, and that's a good thing, Phil thinks. It's good not to depend so heavily on the presence of each other, to place hopes and expectations for their respective selves on the other and call it some twisted form of love.

They've both done it in the past, in different ways, but they've learned and grown and changed and it's _good._

Mostly.

Some nights Phil still feels it, that desperate urge in his chest to revert back, to put the weight of his happiness on Dan's shoulders - it's the kind of feeling he knows how to move past, now, but it doesn't ever curb the physical reaction.

It isn't even a sexual thing, not usually, it's just the sudden clenching of his chest that demands he be near Dan, that he have that solid and unignorable confirmation that Dan exists. That they exist, together. 

Tonight is one of those nights, and it's hardly fair as nothing he can think of has even properly triggered it, but there it is, bubbling in his lungs and controlling his limbs like a strange puppeteer with a penchant for poking Dan with the puppet's limbs. It spurs Phil from the office chair and into the lounge, where Dan asks ‘ _isn't he meant to be editing_ ’ and phil says he _is_ , just he felt like doing it out here.

Dan must understand, on some level, Phil reasons. He doesn't argue or even smirk at Phil the way he might normally, doesn't offer up all the flaws in Phil's plan, how much harder it is to edit on a trackpad, how whatever's on the TV will inevitably distract him. No, Dan simply offers a small nod and turns back to his phone, scrolling through it in spite of his laptop resting on his legs. Phil supposes they're both prone to doing senseless things sometimes. 

So Phil plops himself down sideways, his back to the armrest and the laptop in his lap, and sets to editing. Whatever burning flame in his stomach had sent him to be near Dan seems satisfied for now, and he tries to make use of his window of productivity before he inevitably falls into the show Dan's got on in the background.

Naturally, the moment he's thought about it is really the beginning of the end, and he ends up glancing back to the screen just to catch one part before he gets on with the editing, or so he tells himself. And then it's less than fifteen minutes before he's all but given up on work for the time being, too engrossed in the show.

When Phil sets his laptop on the coffee table, Dan huffs out a breath of laughter. Phil knows it, knows every single kind of laugh Dan's lips have ever produced, but it makes him turn all the same. And then that spark in his stomach flares back to life, demanding things it rarely had since the last time he and Dan had been living apart. 

He obliges it, though, because they're different now and he doesn't feel the need to do this quite as often, not in the same way or for the same reasons. The cushion feels strange under him as he situates himself on a usually-untouched section, close enough to Dan that he can rest his leg against Dan's thigh but still far enough to hopefully avoid arousing suspicion.

“Phil.” No such luck, apparently. Phil hums a response, feigning casual down as deeply as he can. That flame in his core refuses to cool down, refuses to let him fully pretend.

“Why are you sat in the middle of the sofa.” He hardly says it like a question, but his gaze lifts from his phone to stare sideways at Phil as if he expects an answer. 

Sure, they're different now, but how does he explain this? 

“Just wanted to be by you,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flick back to the TV as he awaits Dan's verdict: likely a laugh, one of the sarcastic ones. Maybe a fond ‘ _Phil_ ’ if he's lucky. Probably some commentary about him being a sap, as if Dan wasn't twice as clingy in the beginning. They both were, but they don't have to be anymore.

Aside from Phil's apparent reversion back to 2009.

Dan doesn't speak though, and it's surprising enough that Phil turns back to gauge Dan's expression. He expects a quirked brow, a smirk, a head shake as he goes back to his phone, but Dan's just staring. His lips have curled up, but the smile is soft, not teasing.

A moment later, Dan's laptop joins Phil's on the coffee table and he's scooting into the space on the sofa neither of them really used until now. He shifts and Phil matches his movements until they're both leaned up against each other and Phil's entire body feels warm from the outside and not just the inside. 

Again, that fire subsides just a bit, but now he's thinking about Dan, about them, about _everything_ , and he tilts his head til it rests on Dan's shoulder.

“You okay?” Dan's voice comes out gentle, his hand finds Phil's leg and squeezes, a reminder that he's here, that they're here together, that they've somehow made it work in spite of all the ridiculous obstacles in their way. It feels like a lot. He wonders what 2009 Phil would think. 

He wonders if he'd be as close to tears as 2019 Phil feels.

“Dunno,” Phil says in place of a real answer - it's not a lie, he doesn't really do those anymore, never with Dan, not even when confronting his feelings is scary. It isn't the full truth, though.

“I feel like I'm never gonna see you again,” he admits to the TV screen, but Dan doesn't laugh like Phil expects him to. Instead, his hand squeezes Phil's thigh again.

“What d’you mean?” Phil supposes he ought to give Dan more credit - they've changed together, but they've also changed on their own. Dan’s grown so much, some days he hardly seems the wild kid Phil met all those years ago. Not in the bad way, more like he's become someone Phil loves even _more_ , a thing he'd have said wasn't even possible until it happened.

But Dan is far better at pausing, asking Phil questions, and trying to understand than he used to be, back when everything was catastrophic or the best thing in the world and nobody could change his mind.

“Dunno.” Phil feels unhelpful with his answer, but how would he even begin to explain this? To put in words the sudden feeling that he's been thrown back to being stood at the train station, watching Dan leave for the first and second and fifth time? To explain that heartbreak even though neither of them is going anywhere? Hell, they don’t even have plans for any solo trips anytime in the near future, his brain isn't making any sense. 

“Okay.” That's it, that's all Dan says, but his arms reach up and around Phil and squeeze him tight, enveloping him in an unexpected but apparently very needed hug.

“‘M not going anywhere, y'know,” Dan mumbles into the crook of Phil's neck. He nods because of _course_ he knows, but his lungs constrict at how good it feels to hear that. It shouldn't set him on the verge of tears, but nothing about this makes a whole lot of sense right now.

Dan's hand runs up and down Phil's back, and it sparks a memory of his hand doing the same to Dan's back when it was Dan with wet eyes and Phil felt he had to be the responsible adult who could hold it together and remind Dan that they'd see each other soon and they'd talk every day until then. Maybe it's some kind of repression finally bubbling back up, all his weird feelings about suddenly _needing_ Dan's presence. 

He inhales deeply, breathes in _Dan_ who's not had a shower yet and mostly smells of sleep and their bedsheets, and he tries to center himself in those thoughts: they're here, together, they share everything. This is _their_ life.

“‘M okay, I think,” Phil croaks out after a minute, after he's done his best to settle his brain and heart and remind them that this is his reality, now, that he's here with Dan and they can be together as much as they want. 

Dan pulls back slowly, but he doesn't break contact with Phil. Instead, his hand slides down Phil's arm and his fingers tangle with Phil's, squeezing his hand tight. 

“You're stuck with me, you know.” Dan laughs through the words as he drops his head to Phil's shoulder, and Phil feels so goddamn light all of a sudden that he might just float away.

“ _Good_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! Feel free to give it a cheeky [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/182347761352/stuck)


End file.
